Pity
by iammemyself
Summary: Written for a word prompt on Tumblr, the word being Pity.


'Pity'

He always did this.

Jonathan had never gotten along well with people. Even with people he liked, though there were very few of those. The one person he both got along with _and_ happened to like was also the person he hated the most. Cursed Edward! Things had been going along just swimmingly until he'd been put in a cell with that man. Jonathan was far fonder of him than he was ready to admit as yet, though his admission scarcely seemed needed; Edward seemed already to know! It wasn't truly a surprise, though it _was_ inconvenient. Edward knew a lot of things, most of this was covert information that which he was not _supposed_ to know. His favourite kind, as he'd once followed up this statement with an oddly sombre face and a muttered, "What's a riddle everyone knows the answer to? Worthless."

Certain things about Edward himself seemed still to be hidden from Jonathan, as he was just as silent on the matters of his history as Jonathan was. So when Jonathan lost his temper because Edward would not stop talking, or reading over his shoulder, or breathing, and dosed him just to get him out of the way, Edward would back into some corner until he'd lived out his personal nightmare or Jonathan took pity on his crumpled body for some reason he had yet to know and discreetly administered the anti-toxin. He would stare at the wall blankly for some minutes then, face empty but eyes revealing the intense degree of reorganisation that was going on in that brain of his… and then he would get up and do it all over again.

Jonathan could not figure it out! Wasn't he _tired_ of living his worst nightmare over and over again? At this point should he not be conditioned to be _terrified_ of Jonathan's wrath? But he wasn't! He just returned again to sit on Jonathan's desk or block his light or lean on his shoulder, and Jonathan would remain there in irritation until he could not stand it anymore.

This last time, however, Jonathan had had no toxin in easy reach, as he was quietly and contentedly _reading_ , by the way, so when Edward had folded his arms onto the back of Jonathan's chair and peered over his shoulder at the book Jonathan had ended up clenching his fist and throwing it behind him, not caring what he hit at this point. And anyway, it served Edward right for being such an annoyance! There was a satisfying crunch, which was only as such until Jonathan realised there was blood on his hand and he could not read his book now _anyway_. He snapped it shut with his other hand and turned around, scowling up at Edward. He had already stemmed the bleeding, more or less, with one of the handkerchiefs he always whisked out of nowhere. He didn't even look concerned, more politely annoyed. Jonathan had not at all had the intended effect.

"Are you done yet?" he snapped. Edward raised one of his eyebrows.

"Hm?"

"Haven't you gotten the hint yet? You are _irritating me_."

Edward moved the cloth an inch or so away from his nose and sniffed experimentally. "I know that."

"So _why_ do you keep doing it? Do you _enjoy_ the pain I inflict on you, is that it?"

Edward felt the top of his nose, frowning a little and using some clean portion of the kerchief to clean some of the blood off his mouth. "Not in particular. But I'm afraid you're going about things the wrong way. You see, you believe if you hurt me I'll go away. In truth, you aren't hurting me at all. I got used to this sort of thing many years ago."

He walked off, into the washroom to finish his clean up no doubt, and Jonathan stared after him. But why on earth would a man allow another to do such things, even if they didn't hurt as intended? "You didn't answer the question."

"No, I didn't," Edward said. "Because you're not going to like how I answer it."

"Stop playing games with me, Edward. You've already overstayed your welcome here by quite a lot."

"And yet," he said, stepping in front of Jonathan again, "I'm still here. You are indeed making the effort to scare me off, however… I get the impression you're not trying very hard."

"And why is that?"

Edward shook his head. "If you were _really_ trying to rid yourself of me, you would have done that a long time ago. No. You _want_ me around, but you don't _want_ to want it. I don't know your history. However, I am able to infer that you've only ever found solace in solitude. It's not something you wanted. It's something you were forced into. Believe it or not, I understand that. I do."

"So you pity me for some backstory you've been inventing for me? Is that it?" Ohhh, but he was right. He often was and it was yet another of the reasons Jonathan despised him so much.

"If you didn't try so hard to hate me, I wouldn't have to. You're not going to succeed, by the way. We're far too similar." He leaned up against the table stacked with books in front of Jonathan and regarded him solemnly. His nose was already beginning to turn purple. "I am everything you learned to hate. To protect yourself from. You can continue to whip yourself into a fury over this, and you can keep gassing me and ignoring me, hell, you can even punch me again. I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to have to pity you, Jonathan, but what concerns me more is that you never got over pitying yourself." He shrugged and put his hands into his pockets. "You don't have to trust me on this. A lot of people don't. Then again, I think it'd be nice to sleep on the same side of the bed one of these days, don't you?"

Jonathan cursed the easy smile he had, that one lazy curled side of his mouth. He hated it because Edward was the only one ever to do that. Look at him as though he were the source of something to be pleased about. Jonathan was a source of terror and that was all!

And yet… was that thought not out of exactly what Edward was explaining? A remorse for himself he'd never gotten over? God, that sounded so _pathetic_.

But not doing anything about it only made it even _worse_ …

"Maybe," he conceded.

Edward laughed. He did that so very easily as well. "You can punch me after if you want. Just not in the nose, please, you didn't quite break it and I've no desire to see the job finished."

"I would still appreciate not being _loomed_ over all the time. I understand your intentions and they're… fine." He folded his fingers together and frowned to himself. "But you are a very _overwhelming_ person."

"Thank you!" Edward said. "Now we've gotten that out of the way, I shall take care of other business and leave you to your dark and silent room." And when Jonathan looked back up at him, a little disbelieving because he had scarce left in all the time they'd been there, Edward leaned forward enough to press his lips to Jonathan's forehead and then he made his exit, twirling his cane over one arm and whistling cheerily. Jonathan had to bite his tongue to bring himself to the present again. So they were… _kissing_ now.

The _real_ pity, it seemed, was that Jonathan had not punched him in the face sooner.


End file.
